


Training Exercises

by dragonspell



Series: Training Exercises [1]
Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-11
Updated: 2009-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-20 00:23:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Training time for X5-494.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training Exercises

“X5-494,” the voice tells him and he swallows, pushing down his fear. It's time and he can’t help being just a little scared though frankly he thinks that just goes to show his intelligence level. None of the people in this entire organization should to be trusted. Especially not any of his superiors. Obeyed, yes, but not trusted. So when he steps forward, walking into the little room like he's supposed to, his heart is speeding up in his chest.

Inside, there’s a hard bed—nothing more than a glorified table—with thin sheets but he's well aware of what he’s supposed to do. He forces his face to an expressionless mask and blanks his mind as he pulls off his shirt. All the better to get through this again, to make it until the next time they call him.

He has these sessions about three times a week now--up from the once a week he had last year. Used to be he didn’t have any. X5-494 kind of wishes for those days back, of not having to attend these specialized trainings. They make him feel uncomfortable in ways none of the other trainings with all their physical and mental hardships never do. He knows, though, that this is only standard procedure and that his training is no different than any other X5. Well, the male ones anyway. He imagines the females have a slightly different regimen. Manticore, though, is preparing them all for the outside world and this is just one of the many ways they go about it. Technically, there should be nothing at all he should consider special about this particular training; it shouldn't bother him and X5-494 wonders if it's a design flaw in him that makes him feel this way. So he'll never mention it. At least the sessions seem to keep his… 'urges' under control lately. If he doesn't get in these training sessions, his out of control hormones will just about drive him mad.

He hopes that the trainers will be 'nice' this time as they put it. These sessions are all about training and nothing about pleasure but sometimes they give him a reward for being such a good student and he hopes that maybe this time they’ll let him achieve orgasm again. There are few things more shameful than spending hours being wound up only to be dragged back to his cell and having to masturbate in the corner in the hopes that his trainers don’t notice because he can't help himself. 494 hates how powerless it makes him.

He pushes his pants down and steps out of them before he sits gingerly on the bed, waiting for more instructions. There’s nothing else in the room right now besides him, the bed, and the box of 'toys' in the corner that he doesn’t want to look at. Sometimes it’s not bad at all—sometimes it’s actually downright enjoyable. Once they brought in a pretty blonde, all curves and legs up to her neck and he was allowed to copulate with her. Twice. Maybe today will be like that. He kind of doubts it, though.

Usually the training’s not nearly so nice. More often it’s closer to the other extreme—usually with restraints and teasing and stamina exercises. One time they’d tied him down and kept him on edge for hours, poking and prodding, and using every little toy they had until he shamelessly sobbed and begged for release. Then they kept on going.

They hadn’t let him achieve orgasm for two weeks after that—had tied him down to make sure and brought him to the edge every damn night.

He’d rather they use the whips again then ever have to go through those two weeks another time.

The door opens and X5-494 doesn’t jump, keeping himself firmly in hand as he turns to the door slowly and gets to his feet to salute. The plain-faced doctor that enters isn’t military personnel but 494 is too well-trained to care.

The doctor doesn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, he seems to barely take note that 494 is even in the room. “Lay down,” the doctor says, not bothering to look at 494, instead heading off to the box in the corner. Obeying the order, 494 lays down on the bed, back against the hard surface as he stares resolutely up at the ceiling, not wanting to see what might be pulled out of the box. The doctor’s unfamiliar though that’s nothing new. He tries not to let it bother him.

“X5-494,” the doctor says to himself, like he’s recording a log. “16 years old, pre-examination for stage 4.” 494 blinks at the cement above him. 4th stage already. He wonders just how many stages there are exactly.

There’s a snap of a rubber glove and 494 suppresses the urge to shiver. Gloves usually mean nothing good—they’re a sign that things are about to get messy and usually not in a good way. He also resists the urge to look, knowing he probably doesn’t want to be anticipating whatever it is that Manticore’s cooked up for him this time. The bed shifts a bit as the doctor sits down—it’s not thick enough to dip with the extra body weight—and cold, clinical hands push at his thighs. “Spread,” he’s told and 494 obeys.

His penis is given a quick touch, a feathery swipe over the shaft, and it’s enough to make 494 jerk in reaction and release a shaky breath. He’s still too damn responsive to simple touches. He squirms as he hardens, erection filling to lie against his stomach, and he clenches his hands in the thin sheet, trying to keep still.

The doctor doesn’t waste any time at all, though, before he’s moving his hands lower and despite himself, 494 stiffens. The hands don’t pause, moving downward to rub against the tight ring of his sphincter. A finger presses against the muscle and 494 tries to subtly move upwards. He doesn’t want to disobey it just…feels 'weird.' Odd. Strange. He’s still debating if this is going to be a good day or one of the bad ones but so far he’s not getting his hopes up.

A hand rubs over his thigh as the doctor tells him to “Relax, X5-494.” 494 just barely stops himself from snapping that maybe if the man had a better bedroom technique it might be easier. ‘Cause that’s just begging for pain and 494’s not that stupid.

The doctor’s finger breeches 494, pushing into his rectum and 494 can’t stop the instinctual whimper. The finger is stabbing into him in way that’s not quite painful but not pleasurable either and he’s not sure what to do.

“Relax,” the doctor says again before he pushes in with a second finger and it’s definitely more easier said than done. 494 feels like he’s being split in two and the doctor’s inside him, wiggling. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t like this—it feels invasive, uncomfortable, and entirely far too personal. 494 wonders if this is how females feel when they’re penetrated. He’d like to hope not. The few he’s been allowed to be with appeared to be having a better time than he’s having now.

There’s no noise in the room besides his own harsh breathing and the slightly obscene squick of the doctor moving around inside him. From the sound of things and from how easily the doctor’s penetrating him, 494 figures that he must be using some kind of lubricant.

He turns his head to the side, wondering how long he’s going to have to be here, letting the unfamiliar doctor explore his insides, and if this is all there is today. He knows what they’re doing—he’s not stupid. He’s being prepped for anal sex and he knows that all too soon it’s not going to be just fingers inside him but toys and eventually another man.

He also can’t see why anyone would ever do this willingly.

The doctor’s fingers are wiggling inside him, pushing against the walls of his rectum like they’re searching for something and 494 can’t keep the wince of his face. This is uncomfortable and—

He jolts upright, ignoring the doctor’s startled shout. What was _that_? Panting, he desperately seeks out the doctor who regards him irritatedly and presses that spot inside 494 again.

494 moans and spreads his legs wider than before, unable to help himself. “Lay down,” he’s told and that sounds like a fantastic idea. He shivers and throws himself back down on the bed, eager for more of the doctor’s knowing touches.

The doctor doesn’t disappoint, stroking over the spot again and 494 leaks a thin coat of seminal fluid onto his chest. He whimpers, arching his back against the pleasure that is zinging through his nervous system. His breathing goes ragged and he suddenly understands why men would put themselves through this. This is _fantastic_. He tries to keep his legs spread as wide as he can get them, trying to give the doctor more space to work and with each careful manipulation of the doctor’s fingers, 494’s muscles are knotting tighter and tighter.

He knows the impending rush of orgasm—he’s felt it before—but he’s never felt it without something touching his erection. It’s pressing on him, making him feel like he’s about to implode, that he’s not solidly grounded and he’s about to shatter into a million tiny pieces. His hips jerk uncontrollable, desperately looking for friction and only finding air but for some reason orgasm comes anyway.

He ejaculates with a whine, his eyes fluttering open to stare at the blank wall. His body spasms, jerking around the fingers that are still penetrating him, and 494 draws in a harsh breath trying to stop his panting. He swallows hard and then gasps, desperate for more air. His pulse is racing and 494 hates this the most about these sessions—how his body’s reactions are taken out of his control.

And now he knows another way they can take that control away. As he comes down from the high of climax, he feels something akin to shame settling in. It's not the exact emotion he knows as shame--the feeling he gets when he's disappointed his superiors on what should have been an easy task--but he's never quite felt like this before and that's the closest reference he has. His legs draw up instinctively, his thighs closing and he carefully doesn’t look at the man still between his legs. The doctor ignores his closed-off body language, letting him have his withdrawal and instead removing his hand from 494. He’d never admit it but 494 breathes easier once the doctor stops touching him.

“Extremely responsive,” the doctor says and 494 startles, thinking for a moment that the doctor is talking to him. He only remembers when the doctor continues on. “Orgasm achieved with only manipulation of the prostate, no direct stimulus of the genitals. Subject is recommend for further training.”

He doesn’t like how detached the doctor sounds—how impersonal about a very personal act. 494 closes his eyes and tries to shut the man out, not wanting to hear himself being referred to as something akin to a particularly responsive piece of electronic equipment. Thankfully, though, the man shuts up, snapping off his gloves. “You may return to your cell, X5-494,” he says walking away and 494 nods.

“Yes, sir.” He stands, scooping his discarded clothes off the floor and putting them on. They don’t seem to work anymore, though, because even with them on he still feels naked.  



End file.
